


Desperate Times

by Dragonsploosh



Category: Z Nation (TV)
Genre: Awkward Boners, Dry Humping, Masturbation, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:26:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23431645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonsploosh/pseuds/Dragonsploosh
Summary: 10k really needs some alone time, but it's hard in a zombie apocalypse. Really hard.
Relationships: 10k/10k's hand
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	Desperate Times

The house had no air-con, of course. That sort of thing was pretty much non-existent in a zombie apocalypse, but that didn’t stop Murphy from complaining about it whole-heartedly.

“Like a fricking oven in here,” he grumbled, flopping down onto the sofa. “Too damn hot. What are we even doing here?”

No one answered – everyone was too busy checking the place for Z’s.

“I hate Arizona.” Murphy reached beneath him, tugging out a threadbare blanket. He looked at it in disgust before tossing it into a corner, knocking a photo frame from its place and not giving a shit when it clattered to the floor.

“ _Shhh_ ,” Addy warned, holding up her Z-whacker and listening intently. Anything could be lurking here, and Murphy had just given away their position.

“Oh, what,” said Murphy in a normal voice. “Look at the décor, the worst your going to get is a couple of geriatrics bumbling about.”

He was probably right; the wallpaper was floral, there were two armchairs in the corner, and on the wall was a display case containing an impressive collection of teaspoons.

Still, that didn’t stop Warren, Addy, and Doc from all turning around and hissing “ _SHHHHH_!”

“You’re louder than me anyway,” Murphy mumbled, but quieter.

Warren gave him a look and Murphy huffed but didn’t say anything else. The Lieutenant nodded at the others and they went back to exploring the downstairs. There wasn’t much to see; just the living room, a small beige kitchen containing lots of canned peas (“Score!” said Doc) and the hallway leading to the stairs and the front door.

They shrugged and looked up as 10k padded down the stairs, a relaxed hold on his rifle.

“Anything?” Asked Warren.

“Er, you maybe don’t wanna go in the first bedroom,” he said with a grimace.

“Or the second bedroom,” said Vasquez coming down after him.

“Zs?”

10k shook his head. “No, these were already dead. They’ve just… been here a while.”

Well, that explained the smell. Not that they really noticed it any more – everything just smelled the same after a while. Like death.

“Alright,” said Warren decisively, “we spend the night. Everyone in the front room, we’ll bed down there.”

*

It was as safe a place as anywhere to spend the night. The town was small and rural, probably more of a retirement village than anything else. That suited them fine; there wasn’t much to attract the Z’s here, and the streets outside were quiet for a change.

It was still hot, even as dusk turned into full night. Murphy had made it clear that he’d claimed the sofa, stretching out with his back to everyone. Doc sat slouched in one of the armchairs, content after eating three tins of mushy peas, and Addy had moved the other chair over to the window, keeping a bleary eye on the dark glass.

It was almost peaceful. Vasquez looked like he’d fallen asleep sat up, propped against the wall with his head lolling to the side, and even Warren was napping, her back to the door, gun within reach.

But 10k couldn’t sleep. He’d found a narrow space to lie down behind the sofa, using the discarded blanket as a pillow and trying to get comfortable. It was just so damn hot. The sweat beaded on his upper lip, tasting like salt when he swiped at it with his tongue.

That wasn’t what kept him awake though. Hell, he was nineteen years old and stuck in a cycle of endless days and nights with no privacy - sure, they’d pause on the road for bathroom breaks and, if they were exceptionally lucky, a quick wash in a stream, but that usually involved Warren barking at them to hurry up or Doc wandering up for a conversation while he was trying to take a piss. The whole thing meant that he couldn’t take care of himself the way he wanted to, and that lead to a lot of awkward situations. Like right now, for example. Lying in the dark, hands by his sides, trying to ignore the throb of the erection running down the left leg of his briefs.

It ached. The tightness of his cargo pants was stopping it from springing up properly, but he wasn’t sure if he should put his hand down there and adjust it. It seemed too risky – for one thing, he wasn’t sure if he could stop touching himself once he started.

He lead there instead, listening to the growing sounds of snoring in the room and digging his nails into his palms. He couldn’t do anything. He _shouldn’t_ do anything.

He tried to think about Z’s instead. They’d spent the last week sleeping out in the open, two people constantly keeping guard. And for good reason– every few hours there’d be a shout, and a Z or two would shuffle into their camp, sending everyone from sleep to high alert in a matter of seconds. It seemed safer in here, a whole world away from the woods, but you never knew. And his group were light sleepers. They’d be awake at the slightest sound.

All 10k could do was stare up at the ceiling, weighing up his options. Maybe he could sneak out, go to the bathroom – but no, they’d wake up and listen out for him, waiting for him to come back. That just left staying put and trying to sleep. Like he’d done most nights, lying on the hard ground, breathing slow against the ache in his groin. Or of course, there was always the riskier option.

_Don’t make a fracking sound._

He couldn’t help it. 10k slowly reached for the blanket beneath his head and, despite the heat, spread it out over his lap. Probably wouldn’t help if anyone happened peer around the sofa, but it felt better. More discreet. After suffering in silence for so long, he finally got to pop open the button on his fly and ease down the zipper.

The relief was instant. He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. His fingers were careful as they burrowed under the waistband of his briefs, until he met coarse hair and slid down further, feeling the radiating warmth at the base of his dick. He hooked his thumb around it and pulled it up into a better position, with the head poking over the top of his waistband.

So far so good.

Tentatively he used one hand to push down the front of his briefs, and with the other he gently started to play with the tip. It was wet already. All he did was drag one slender finger along the slit and arousal swooped low in his stomach, pooling in his groin. His cock swelled even more, straining for more friction.

10k tried to control his breathing. Deep, slow breaths as he circled his thumb around the plump glans, feeling just how slick he’d gotten. More of it drooled out at the light touches, and he dragged the fluid over the thin membrane of his frenulum, thumb slipping up and down. He looked down through his eyelashes at his hand moving underneath the thin blanket. Yeah, that was good. Not too obvious.

He made a fist, glad that he’d taken his gloves off before bedding down for the night. There was nothing like the feel of skin against skin.

 _Except maybe a mouth,_ his brain supplied.

That got him. His dick thumped in his hand at the thought, and he moved it all the way down and back up in a languorous pump. He’d never had a mouth on his body before. Or, if he was being honest, anyone’s hands other than his own. A mouth though, that would be nice. And a _tongue_.

10k let out a ragged breath, pushing a thumb against the underside of the head before dragging back down again, giving a little squeeze to the base. He wondered if he’d be able to stuff all of it into a mouth; whether lips could reach this far. Whether the tongue would be soft.

Another shuddering breath. He could smell himself; testosterone and sweat mixed with the unmistakable scent of arousal. He’d gone past the point of caring though – his hand had started up a slow rhythm and 10k was lost, relishing the feeling of finally getting to touch his dick.

The blanket got pushed down as he worked himself over. In his head, a tongue swirled around the tip of his cock before that mouth sank back down again, slurping as it went. His touches were beginning to make quiet wet noises, and he imagined that’s what the sounds were; eager lips swallowing him down deep.

It was feeling too good now. The boy’s hand had a mind of its own, getting faster, twisting his wrist near the tip. His dick was pulsing in time with his own heartbeat, a desperate thrumming against his slick palm.

His free hand suddenly shot up in front of his face, covering his mouth as his jaw dropped open. His hips were twitching, thighs tensing, sharp jaw moving as he let out tiny gasps of “ah, ah, _ah_.”

 _Fuck_ , he needed to cum already. It was right there, rising in his dick. Too soon, though; if it really was a girl sucking on him then this would be embarrassing. Or worse, if he ever got to have _sex_ –

He cut that thought off before it ruined him. Long fingers gave a rough squeeze, trying to hold back the flow of cum. A grunt left his lips and his dick thumped angrily, but after a few seconds of slow breathing he managed to regain control.

 _Sex_ , he thought. He needed to try and last longer for sex. In a zombie apocalypse everyone needed something to look forward to and, beyond getting rid of Murphy in California, this was really all he had.

10k was careful as he moved. He rolled onto his stomach as quietly as he could, balling the blanket up beneath his hips and dragging his pants down until they rested just under his ass. He could move better like this. The blanket was scratchy on his dick for a minute, but nothing else mattered when he wrapped his hand back around the stiff length.

Gently, as slowly as he could bear, he started to hump.

His hips undulated carefully, pushing his dick all the way into his fist. He leaned on his other elbow, giving himself the leverage to rut a bit harder. With clenched teeth, breath coming out in hisses, he wondered if this would be good enough for a girl.

Of course, she’d probably be moving too. 10k wished he knew what it was like between a girl’s legs, but he thought it would be wet. Like a mouth. And her breasts would bounce as he did this.

He gave a firmer thrust, arching his back to pull out and then gave a heavy whack back in. Yeah, that would make them bounce. He did it again, harder, and a choked moan left his lips.

Yeah, he’d be able to get nice and deep. And the girl would like it, she’d make noises and… and…

“Ugh, _frack,”_ mouthed 10k. He humped faster but he’d lost all rhythm, just fucking his own hand with disjointed, jerky movements. Damn, his climax was swelling again. He tried to slow down but he couldn’t, his body needed this. He needed to cum.

It started in his legs, a numbness spreading before that sharp wave took over, crashing into his groin. His dick convulsed, once, and that was it. He barely had time to slide up to the head, closing his fist as it started to shoot.

“ _Ahhh_ … _Ahhh_ ….”

10k’s breath came out in ragged pants as his orgasm hit, semen flooding his palm. His ass jerked as he tried to hump through it, though he could only manage the most pathetic of movements. He gave in to it, whining, his body stiffening as his hips locked in place. His brain had turned to complete mush, sharp pleasure taking over his whole body as his dick spurted over and over.

His muscles finally gave out and he flopped forward, his cheek hitting the floor. He was shaking. The teen gave a quiet half-laugh and struggled to move, flopping like a fish until he managed to twist around onto his back. That’s how he stayed, grinning, his head light and his chest heaving.

Eventually he raised his spunk covered hand, looking at it curiously. There was a lot – it collected between his fingers, coating his palm and dribbling down further.

Only one thing for it. He opened his mouth and caught it where it dripped down his wrist, lapping at it like a messy ice cream. His tongue cleaned up, laving his palm and wriggling between his digits, leaving a buzzing sensation in his mouth.

It was only when he licked at the last finger, swallowing the still-warm fluid, that he realised something: the room had gone silent. There was nothing; no snoring, no heavy breathing from the others. After a minute someone coughed awkwardly, and 10k’s eyes widened in horror. His body sank into the floor, hands covering his mouth.

Without the fog of sex, his own breathing sounded loud in the room. His pulse thumped in his neck -he couldn’t believe how loud he was being. God, had he made this much noise when he was cumming?

Someone snickered, and it sounded a lot like Murphy. For fuck’s sake.

“Oh, shut up,” 10k hissed back when it became unbearable, and the tension in the room seemed to ease.

He didn’t have to wait too long until the snores began again, and he started to relax. He couldn’t help it; his body felt too good, sleep was pulling at him. He pushed everything else to the back of his mind for now, trying not to think about it – he’d deal with it at breakfast.

Still, there was a chance no one would actually say anything. It wasn’t impossible. After all;

_What happens in a zombie apocalypse stays in a zombie apocalypse._


End file.
